


Widojest Ask/Prompt Fills

by rowan_raven_rogue (shackalacklargebottom)



Category: Critical Role (Web Series)
Genre: Caretaking, Drabbles, F/M, Feeblemind Spell, Hurt/Comfort, angst via flower language, prompt fills, to be updated as necessary
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-03-05
Updated: 2020-03-07
Packaged: 2021-02-28 20:08:00
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 1,733
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23022982
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/shackalacklargebottom/pseuds/rowan_raven_rogue
Summary: A collection of prompts filled via Tumblr ask.
Relationships: Jester Lavorre/Caleb Widogast
Comments: 1
Kudos: 69





	1. Feeblemind

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> @funnygirlthatbelle For widojest fic prompts: feeblemind?

It was surprisingly easy to adopt the habit, half-conscious though she was in the morning - to be mindful of the gifts placed near her bedroll, and not to crush them as she had the first bunch. Those, Jester had hidden - once she realized who had plucked the daffodils from the riverbank - careful not to let him see, in case it only worsened things. She wondered if making a bigger Show Of It would, perhaps, make things better. It didn’t seem as though anything they had tried in the last dragging weeks had improved matters, but that just meant there were more creative means to try.

This morning it was cyani flowers.

She rolled over gently, already aware of their little perfume, and smiled. _He knows us_ , she thought, sad and smiling. The morning was still pink, and the wind hadn’t warmed up overmuch yet, still carrying a thin chill over the soft, insistent rush of the river nearby. Jester rose, stretching, and tucked one of the flowers into her hair. She scanned the bank. _Ah._

He sat with his back to the camp, staring into the water. His coat was in a rumple over his bedroll where Nott had left it the night before. Jester began padding over, paused, and let her footsteps fall just a bit louder than necessary as she made her way. It pained her to see him jump at anything these days, much less her - or any of their friends.

“Good morning, Caleb,” she said, without even consciously forcing her voice into a lower, mellower timbre this time - the morning did that for her. (They had found that louder, harsher, brighter, anything - _er_ made it worse, made him shrink and wither even more.) For a heartbeat, she swallowed her hope that he might turn, might murmur _Good morning, Jester_ , gently tease her, _pop!_ Frumpkin into existence to purr on his lap, and come back into himself again -until he looked up, blank and silent as ever.

“How did you sleep?” Caleb blinked, and she watched his eyes drop so slightly, reading her lips and comprehending none of it. He crinkled, at the corners and edges, and with a roll of her stomach Jester thought, _There’s nothing hiding how sad he can be from_ _us, now_. They sat together quietly for long rushes of river water, until the unmistakable noise of the rest of the Nein waking drew Jester toward the warm promise of a morning campfire. One last look at their distorted reflections in the water’s surface, and Jester made her way back to camp with a farewell squeeze of Caleb’s hand.

“How…” began Nott, as Jester approached, although the implicit _How is he, back to normal please I hope_? was hard to miss.

“The same,” Jester said, finally.

“It’s a month. It’s been a month, today,” Beau interjected, wiping grumpy sleep from her eyes. She held a handful of shining river rocks tight in one fist.

“Then it’s a good thing we’re going to get to town, soon,” said Jester, “and maybe they’ll have more diamonds and I can actually do something.” She paused. “Those are yours today, huh?” she said, pointing to the water-worn stones.

“What?”

“The rocks. He left those for you?”

“What are you talking about?”

“I got these today,” replied Jester, indicating the flower in her hair.

"From who? Your secret admirer?” Beau snarked, one eyebrow rocketing upward.

“No, from-” Jester grasped. “Caleb didn’t leave those for you?”

“I picked these up during my watch to throw at Fjord when I get bored today. Caleb left you flowers?”


	2. Of Being Known

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> @anonymous Do a prompt where Jester notices changes in the way Caleb looks at her but still could piece together what or why. Just that it’s different and that it’s on the tip of her tongue and that she likes it.

Jester wrinkles her nose, shyly maneuvering around a comment on Caleb’s cleanliness - he blinks, placid, careful, nothing given away, although Jester notes the slightest quirk of one eyebrow.

***

The steam rising gives everyone a slight fuzz about the edges. Jester’s never been shy about a naked body - a body is useful, sometimes loved, easily decorated, but still, just that - but it seems that Caleb may not have reached that same conclusion, one of someone raised by a courtesan. He sinks, chin dipping below the surface of the bath, and Jester watches him methodically avert his eyes as the group speak, in turn. She does, however, feel a lingering on her, as she lathers Nott’s hair with gentle fingers. For some reason, she feels satisfied.

***

Caleb’s eyes are just glassy, and the tavern decor flickers in them in methodical circles as they step together in three-fourths. He is slow, languid, not entirely graceful, although it’s nice to see him take up the space he usually denies himself, crowding away into his little metaphorical corner. Either he has lost the sense of control to continue leading her entirely through the dance, or he’s held onto it strongly enough to realize they are better off if she steers a bit from time to time, but either way it’s nice. She’s never led a dance with a partner, in any capacity, which adds a pleasingly random little element that tickles her. Others have joined them, too, on the floor. It takes her a moment to notice that the reflection in Caleb’s eyes has come to rest, is now entirely blue.

***

The conversation turns to Fjord, because of course it does - they’re all here for him, he’s bound to come up, and that’s not a problem, really - although the directness with which he asks her does give her pause.

“ _You’re sweet on him, yeah_?”

She supposes she hasn’t been the most secretive about it, which, if the books are anything to go by, you are supposed to be secretive - for reasons unclear, but that’s how it must be, if it’s dictated in the books. It also catches her off-guard with the ease of her answer. Truthfully, she isn’t sure.

He narrows. Suspicion, or something - a gate is lowered, anyway. Jester isn’t sure whether it’s to keep her out of his thoughts, or something else in.

***

He looks so weighed down, Jester’s worried he won’t be able to breathe much longer under the weight of this conversation. Every question piled on his shoulders sags him lower, and so Jester does what Jester does best -

“ _Are you secretly in love with me_?”

Except of course she hadn’t meant to ask that question at all, despite the fact that the tension snaps and eases in a second, she had meant to ask if he believed in the healing power of cinnamon or if he was secretly two gnomes in a long coat or…

…everyone is laughing but Caleb. He answers Nott’s question first, which is fairly expected, but never quite gets around to hers. He avoids her eyes for the rest of the night.

***

His eyes are red-rimmed, not salty enough to be from crying, but the potential is there. He’s tired. Slowly, he’s been shedding that tired, all the days and weeks they’ve been traveling together, and it stitches her chest to see it come back now.

She takes his hands.

“ _I just want to say, I know what you went through today was really hard…_ ” she begins. He’s frozen, eyes wide all around the rims. Something in them laps her up. They don’t leave her, not for a second, even after she finishes, “ _I’m here for you_.” It can’t have been that surprising, that sentiment - she’s heard Nott say similar, Beau as well. Perhaps he hasn’t left behind as much as she thought.

***

He brings up Travelercon, naturally - she knows he knows it will make her happy. Still, something in her twinges. Something she can’t put her finger on. Impossibly, she stirs the thought away from her mind, that perhaps this once she was not looking to the Traveler for comfort.

Little amber hamster unicorns amble slowly through the air, occasionally bonking gently into lollipop stems. For once, she isn’t watching her watch him - a pity.

***

Something has changed. He long ago stopped wavering when their eyes met. The feel of him watching her is warm - she’s warm most days, now. It’s helpful. It’s grounding.

She wishes she could find its name. Somewhere in her stomach, which seems to be pleasantly brimming all butterflies so often - maybe she can find it. It’s on the tip of her tongue, but not too pressing. They’re busy, of course


	3. Hurt/Comfort

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> @anonymous widojest + one gets hurt ? idk what kinda prompts u want specifically sorry if this isnt what ur lookin for !

Jester was dimly aware that her head was spinning. Her eyes were closed, but as they fluttered open the world swirled around her - orange, dark, blue, dark, green, dark, brown, dark, purple, dark. She opened her eyes properly, and with one final revolution, her vision settled on… the ground, in dim green and brown motion below her - above that, the shoulder of Caleb’s coat.

“Caleb?” she said, surprised at the effort it took to produce the sound. Immediately, the motion stopped. 

“Jester,” he began, overquick, something catching at the top of the word. He knelt gingerly, allowing her to slide gracelessly from his shoulders, and she remained clutched to his back, woozy.

“Can you stand?” he tried, tightening his grip around her arms wrapped around his neck. Jester nodded into his shoulder blades and slowly rose, letting him take much of her weight -

\- before the world concentrated into bright, electric pain and exploded into stars from her right hip. She cried out, gripping tighter around his neck as he held her steady and they sunk to the ground again.

“Okay, okay,” he soothed, voice tight. “I will carry you - forgive me for, ah,  _ handling _ you so… impolitely, earlier, but I thought it would be best to keep the pressure off your hurt and I didn’t know how else…” he trailed off.

“No, it’s okay,” murmured Jester, still shaking under aftershocks of pain racing beneath her skin around her injured side. “I don’t think I can manage any spells right now, after that fight, or else I would just…”

“Perhaps once we catch up to the others Caduceus can take a look,” he said. “Let’s try -” and he slipped beneath her left arm. She tucked her head into the crook of his neck and let him carefully tuck his other arm beneath her knees. Hissing at the pressure on her injured hip as he lifted her, she hooked her arms around his neck again to relieve it somewhat. They continued on again, wordlessly, Jester cradled to Caleb’s chest, and it was only when she felt something drip onto her shoulder that she realized he was crying, silently.


End file.
